The End of The World
by TWDwalker5
Summary: Ali has been raped by her father, more so after the end of the world. She stumbles upon the Sanctuary, seeking shelter and safety, but with what she has had to endure and with the way Negan is with women, is this place really safe?
1. Chapter 1

Negan sits on his jet-black couch, a glass of scotch in one hand, wife number 3 in the other. His feet are resting on the glass coffee table the Saviors managed to scavenge a couple of weeks ago. Since then he's been demanding nearly everyone to go up to his room to have a talk – obviously to showcase his new furniture.

The woman under his arm sighs, lifting her head to look up at him, "Are we just going to sit here for the rest of the day?"

Negan grins, amused by her usual loud mouth, "You can suck my dick again, if you want."

She rolls her eyes and puts her head back on his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his chuckle underneath.

Five more minutes pass as he sips on his drink, regarding how good the glass looks between the black couch and chair.

The static of the walkie-talkie on his hip brings some life back into the room. His wife pulls away, relieved that at least now he is going to be distracted by something other than her, and that stupid coffee table.

 _"Boss, we have a new arrival,"_ Dwight grumbles from the other line. The wife stands up and watches Negan plant his feet back on the ground.

She smiles slightly, half of it fake and the other half genuine. She has better things to do today. He reaches for her hand and kisses her palm before letting her run free.

"Send them up to me," he answers Dwight after the wife leaves, his eyes on the coffee table, his smile wider than ever. One more person to show off to.

The static hisses again but there is no reply for a long time. Negan raises his brow, playing with the antenna. He loses his patience after he counts to ten.

"Dwight, where the fuck is my reply, goddamit-"

The static hisses again and a loud shriek makes him drop his device.

"Fucking shit, holy goddamn!"

He picks up the walkie-talkie and growls, pressing the button to yell at Dwight, but he cuts him off, " _Sorry, sir, we're having some trouble containing-"_

"Having some trouble?" he growls, "What the fuck are you trying to restrain, a goddamn pig sty?!"

 _"She won't listen or-"_

"She?" Negan's grin returns. Again, he waits for a reply but only the sound of banging and clanging comes. A feisty one, "Jesus, if you pricks can't contain this, then I fucking will."

Shoving his device back in the holster on his hip, he gets up and shrugs on his leather jacket. Lucille is waiting for him beside his bed. He grins before picking her up and walking out of the door.

Negan almost drops Lucille at the sight in front of him.

His men – his six men – are cowering away from the column in the dining hall. It is empty because dinner is over and only the cleaners are lingering around… but his men. Including Dwight. He shakes his head in disbelief.

A couple are hiding under a table. One is sat in the corner of the room, clutching his head in pain. Blood is evident on his temple. Some are starting to circle around the threat behind the column, guns raised.

"Hold your fire!" Negan bellows, swinging Lucille by his side as he steps into the hall. Dwight turns to him and sighs in relief, straightening up.

"She's over there," he points to the column, casting his gaze away from the leader nervously. Negan glares down at him, taking his precious time.

"You wanna fucking explain why my men have turned into a bunch of pussies?" everyone glances over at Negan, the relief in their faces overwhelming.

He looks around the hall again. Simon isn't here. That explains a lot.

"We… we tried t-to-" Dwight starts to speak but Negan walks past him, ignoring his voice. He is curious. And slightly amused. But mostly disappointed.

He stands behind Dave who is aiming his rifle at the girl behind a cement column. Negan smirks slightly and places a hand on his back, moving with him just in case she is one of those crazies from his past, trying to get revenge.

But as closer as he gets, he notices that she does not have a gun. Only a knife. And it is pointed in the general direction of his Saviors.

"You've caused all this fucking trouble?" Negan asks playfully, releasing Dave and stepping closer with no barrier this time. The girl jabs her knife towards him and he jumps back, "Calm down, sweetheart."

"We found her near the gates," Dwight speaks up, more confidently, "Nearly took her down. Thought she was a walker."

"That. I can believe," Negan murmurs.

By the state that she is in, anybody can mistake her as one of the dead ones.

Her messy brown hair is tangled at her waist. There are some leaves buried beneath her locks. Interesting. She put up a fight.

Her vibrant blue eyes glare up at the leader, making him smile more and more. It's as if her anger powers him.

"Tell me again, Dwighty boy," he shouts so that everybody in the hall can hear him, "How did she manage to cause all your balls to shrink and give Chris over there a concussion?"

The girl glances at the man who is clutching his head. Negan bites the inside of his cheek, sensing now that she is not here for revenge. She is just as clueless as he is. And she is soaking up all the new information like a champ. Atta girl.

"With… with a crowbar, sir," Dwight mutters. He is nervous again.

"A crowbar?" Negan raises his eyebrows, never taking his eyes off her. She seems to relax slightly, but her arm is still raised with the knife in her hand.

The leader's eyes wander down her torn jeans and up her muddy sweater. With the vision he was given by the Gods, he outlines the curves of her hips and the hourglass figure beneath the layers. Yes. She will do just fine.

"Well, I'm sure this was just a misunderstanding," Negan props Lucille on his shoulder, and her eyes follow, "Right, darling?"

To his surprise, she answers, "Right." Her voice is firm, yet it trembles.

"Great!" Negan jumps up, raising his hand to wave off his army, "Now. Everyone behind me, go fuck yourselves."

All the men scatter except from Chris, who has to be half-carried out of the hall. The girl starts lowering her weapon, observing how the tall man in front of her steps closer.

"I'm Negan," he smirks, gesturing to his bat, "This is Lucille."

The girl stares at him blankly. He waves his hand towards her.

"And you are…?"

She licks her dry lips and hugs the column with one arm, hiding half of her body, "Ali."

"What is Ali short for?"

She pauses, glancing at his bat again, "I want to go."

Negan pinches the bridge of his nose, "You're not staying for dessert?"

Ali does not seem to find him amusing. Which sort of pisses him off. He steps back slowly, gesturing around him.

"Dwighty-boy over there thought you were a corpse," his smile falters slightly, "Why were you lurking near our gates, doll? Did you need some help?"

His forehead fills with lines as he waits for his reply. Ali shakes her head timidly, looking over at the nearest door. Already planning her escape.

"Now, I don't know where the fuck you were raised, sweetheart… but around here, you speak when you're spoken to."

Ali widens her eyes momentarily, casting his expletives as threats.

Negan sighs loudly, running a hand down his face which makes him close his eyes. She takes this as an opportunity to look him over. Shiny boots. Slim jeans. Belt slightly undone. Black hair visible beneath his white shirt.

Their eyes meet again.

"Ali," he slurs lazily, his smile crawling back onto his face, "Would you like to have a hot meal? Maybe a shower? We have running water here. And you look like you need our help. So, don't tell me no."

Her hand is completely lowered by this point. She tucks the knife into her waist band. Negan watches her, smiling slightly.

"Yes, please."

He places a hand on his heart comically, letting out a grunt, "Oh, darling. It would be my pleasure."

The halls are quiet at this time of day. So, when Negan leads Ali up to his room, she only sees glimpses of men and some women walking in and out of her view.

The leader whistles in front of her, swinging his most prized possession around carelessly. Ali nearly stumbles into his back when he stops abruptly, "Here we are, doll."

Her arms wrap around her middle as Negan opens a door, gesturing with his head.

"After you, sugar."

Gingerly, she saunters in, her eyes glued to the floor. Negan seems almost disappointed as he slams the door behind him, "Well, take a goddamn look!" There is a long pause, "Look at my new table."

She hears a smile in his voice so she does. It's made of glass, the edges framed with a wooden plait. It's… nice. But she does not know what he wants her to say.

When she feels his breath on the back of her neck, her legs bring her to the middle of the room. He nods slowly.

"Yeah… okay," he sets Lucille down on the biggest armchair she has ever seen, "Welcome. Take a fucking seat. Make yourself feel at fucking home."

Ali flinches, but when she looks over her shoulder he is smiling. Right. He just swears when he's happy?

"What would you like to eat, darling?"

She moistens her lips, feeling her stomach clench at the word, "Anything."

"Well, you can pick," he shrugs, his jacket falling into his hands. He throws it over the back of his armchair, "Anything, doll. Don't be shy."

Ali glances at her fingers. Most of her fingernails have red beneath them, "Spaghetti?"

Just when she thinks he is going to deny her the choice, he grabs his walkie-talkie, "Darling, I feel like you were made especially for me."

She doesn't know how to take that, so she sits down on the big couch, face neutral. Negan orders somebody on the other line to bring one serving of spaghetti up to his room, and she thinks she hears him say something along the lines of 'fucking ice for the scotch'.

She feels him sit right beside her, legs touching. Her heart clenches in her chest and she scoots away, feeling something stir within her. Why is she here? She is so stupid. These people could be murderers.

"How about a shower?" she glances over at him. He is leaning forward to try and see her face behind the thick curtains on her head.

Ali wants to nod or shake her head, but all that she can do is focus on her breathing. This could be a trap. He could be a pervert. He could rape her.

When a warm finger touches her chin, all hell breaks loose. Automatically, she slaps his hand away, earning a confused look from the man, "Stop it."

"Woah, woah, it's alright, darling," his eyebrows knit together. The last thing she needs is for him to get mad.

Tears prick at her eyeballs and the sound of his voice becomes muffled by the ringing in her ears. She was desperate. She needed food. And shelter. And that made her stupid. Why is she here?

"Stop it!" she shrieks as his hand cups the bone of her knee.

Negan raises his hands, moving over to the other side of the couch. Well, at least he is not one of those people.

"Doll, you're safe," he is confused, wondering what could possibly have caused that reaction, "It's alright, I'm not trying to hurt you. Am I hurting you?"

His eyes scan over her face for bruises or anything that could suggest why she became a blubbering mess on his couch.

For a second, he thinks about putting an arm around her shoulders but it does not sit well with him. He settles for intertwining his fingers together, glancing over to the crying girl. She calms down quickly, wiping at her face.

"Jesus, okay," he sighs, closing his eyes briefly. She feels him getting up off the couch and standing right in front of her. She looks up once her eyes are dry. His face softens, "Go and take a shower. There's a towel and a robe you can put on for now in the bathroom, alright?"

Ali nods slightly, watching him consider offering her his hand, but he steps away at the last second.

"I'll be out here. Wait," he pauses, "Do you have any injuries? Because we have a doctor."

He starts looking for any bleeding on her body, still slightly confused by her outburst. Politely, she shakes her head and thanks him, walking over to the door he is pointing at.

As she disappears from his view, he puckers his lips. She didn't even comment on his new table.


	2. Chapter 2

Ali walks out of the bathroom, eyes alert. She clutches the fluffy robe she found on the hook of the door, making sure her chest is covered. The robe cuts off at her ankles, making her look tiny in the cocoon. It's extremely large and it obviously belongs to Negan. Just to make sure, she lowers her chin, sniffing the fabric. Aftershave.

"Look at you," a voice murmurs, breaking her train of thought.

Negan rises from his place on the armchair, tossing a stack of papers onto the table. He walks over to the coffee table, gesturing. Ali notices that a steaming plate of spaghetti has appeared. Her stomach churns at the sight.

"Um," she starts, making Negan raise his eyebrows in interest, "I don't have any clothes."

As an answer, he glides over to his bed, slamming his hand down on a neat pile of clothes, "You can get dressed later. I hope they got your fucking size right, doll. Why don't you sit down and tuck in?"

He points to the plate.

She doesn't need to be told twice.

The food is hot in her mouth and once she swallows, it warms her up from the inside out. It's been so long since she had a hot meal. Too long.

She closes her eyes in pleasure, savouring every bite.

Negan sits on the opposite side of the table, intertwining his fingers and leaning forward. He traces his bottom lip with his tongue, a smirk starting to appear.

"You never did tell me what Ali is short for."

She looks up at him, putting the back of her hand against her mouth. She remembers that she didn't answer. And she remembers why. It was the way her father hissed out the last part of her name.

Ali swallows her bite and forces herself to talk, "Alice."

"Alice," he repeats, trailing a gaze down to her chest. She flinches and tightens the robe, suddenly feeling sick.

"It's just Ali."

"Right," he leans back, nodding, "Ali is fucking dandy."

The spaghetti is almost finished, but she can't seem to bring herself to eat, feeling the way her food is rising back up. She leans forward gently, closing her eyes.

 _He isn't here anymore. He can't hurt me._

"Are you finished, darlin'?"

Ali glances up at Negan, who has curiosity written all over his face. She nods quickly, leaning back.

"Yes, thank you."

"You're fucking welcome, sugar."

Awkwardly, she casts her gaze away from him, not realizing it has landed on the pile of clothes on the bed. Negan chuckles, grabbing her plate and resting it on his lap before starting to finish the leftovers.

"Go ahead," he approves, "There's a matching underwear set for you to try on too. Give you a little glimpse."

Ali's mouth dries up, "A glimpse of what?"

Negan smiles widely, swallowing the last of his food, "Just get dressed, darlin'."

Gingerly, she gets up from her seat, keeping her arms around the robe to make sure it won't fall or get ripped away. Ali picks up the pile of clothes, looking through the layers. She sees the underwear. It's baby blue. And see through. Her eyebrows knit together.

"What're you thinking, honey?"

She looks over her shoulder at him, almost confidently, but not quite.

"I don't wear these kind of things," her voice is quiet. It takes Negan aback though.

"Oh?" he looks surprised, but pleased, "Then you are fucking welcome to walk around without underwear," he gets up, hands sliding into his pockets, "I'd prefer that."

Before anything else can be said or done, she rushes over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her to get dressed. Ali hangs the robe back up carefully, turning around to slide on the slutty underwear. She feels angry because she is going through with this. She feels as though Negan thinks she is stupid.

There's obviously something not quite right with him. Maybe he does this to all women. But she needs underwear. And even if it's from a porno, she'll wear it regardless.

The bra is the same colour, and just as see through. She tugs on a tank top which seems to fit her, and then a shirt which seems to be a bit loose. The socks are the right size. The jeans must be fastened with a belt.

She walks out, her hair still a little damp from the shower. Negan's face falls, as if he was expecting her to walk out in nothing but the underwear he gave her.

"Everything fit okay?" he asks, walking right up to her face.

Ali nods, unprepared to get changed again if he sends her more clothes. She pulls the waist band of her jeans up slightly, causing her bra strap to slide off her shoulder.

Negan catches it quickly and slides it back up, humming in approval. Ali flinches, knowing it's too late to back away or push at his chest. She shuts her eyes tightly, waiting for it to be over. But Negan takes his time tracing a pattern up and down her shoulder under her shirt.

Her heart rate picks up and she knows that he is talking (flirting) but she cannot hear a thing due to the ringing in her ears.

He could be a rapist. A kind rapist.

At the last second, her hand strikes up to swat him away. Face, chest, shoulders, she doesn't care. She continues hitting him until he is no longer in front of her.

"Don't touch me!"

"Jesus motherfucking fuck. Shit!" she looks up to see him holding a hand to his jawline. When he pulls it away, there are three deep scratch marks leaking blood.

Ali's heart stops. This is it. She just granted herself an execution.

Negan glares down at her, taking deep breaths to stop himself from swearing even more. He growls lowly and finally sighs when he sees how her eyes glazed over.

"You _are_ a feisty one," the corner of his mouth twitches up.

She wants to apologize, but what for? It was self-defence.

"I-… I-"

"Save it, doll," he sighs again, wiping at the blood, "Shouldn't have touched you."

Wait… he isn't mad? Maybe he thinks she is unstable… which she kind of is.

Ali ducks her head, wishing for nothing more than to disappear.

"Take a fucking seat. We need to talk."

She follows his orders silently, curling her legs underneath her body. Negan walks up to a small mirror that is sitting on a shelf near his bed. He leans in, scanning his face. Ali bites her lip as she watches, expecting him to lash out.

"Don't think this will go unpunished," he warns.

She takes a deep breath, looking down at the hands on her lap.

Negan seats himself opposite Ali, wiping at his jaw from time to time. He glares at her for the longest period, and she sinks further into the couch.

After what feels like hours, he finally speaks, "Why should I provide you sanctuary?"

She feels like it's a rhetorical question, so she stays silent. Across from her, Negan pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I mean, you are obviously hot as hell. And generally, that would be enough for me to give you food and shelter… in exchange for a little sugar of course," her heart rate picks up, "But I feel like you are not comfortable with that."

She meets his eyes, rubbing her shoulder where his warm touch was a couple of minutes ago.

"So tell me… what _do_ you have to offer?"

At this point, she feels like she has no reasonable answer. And for some reason, she feels relieved. Is it better to take her chances out on the road? What even is this place? Does she have to be a sex slave in exchange for safety?

"Can you fight?" his tongue slips out again as he smirks, "And by fight, I don't mean scratch the holy hell out of people."

Ali nods subtly, "Yes."

"I feel like you have a lot of fucking anger," he grins, "Y'know, beneath all that 'timid girl' bullshit."

She nods again, feeling slightly awkward. Negan smiles, showing his teeth.

"Okay, darlin'," he rubs his chin for a moment, leaning back on the couch, "I'm a stand-up guy. So, I'm giving you a room. Clearly, you need a break. And you're not sleeping here. I'm scared for my well-being."

She watches as he stands up, taking a walkie-talkie out of the holster on his waist.

"Simon," he beams, leaning back and forth on his feet, "Get your ass up here. We have a guest that requires your attention."

Simon. Another man. It would make Ali feel more comfortable if a woman showed up.

She watches as Negan smirks down at her, waving his walkie-talkie around until it makes a harsh sound, "Roger that," a voice comes from the other line.

Ali stands up, tugging her shirt down hesitantly, "Who is Simon?"

Negan looks at her, surprised that she spoke. Fascinated that it was so quiet, "Simon is my right-hand man. You gotta fucking have one of those around, you know?"

A playful knock on the door erupts within seconds. That was fast.

The door opens and there stands who Ali assumes is Simon. Tall, amused, and wearing a moustache. His smile only widens when he greets Negan. And then his eyes widen as they settle on his scratches.

"What the hell happened to you?" he points to his own cheek.

"Let me introduce you to Ali," Negan says, stepping closer to the girl. In her peripheral vision, she sees his arm rise to wrap around her shoulders but he decided against it. Smart.

"Nice to meet you, Ali," Simon purrs out her name, grinning. Then he raises an eyebrow at Negan's scratches and starts putting the puzzle pieces together in his head. Ali almost sees it.

"Take her up to her room," Negan orders, pointing upwards, "The spare one near Richard's."

Another man. Ali scratches the back of her head.

"And don't fucking touch her," he adds, reaching over to pat his shoulder, "Trust me."

She would be offended if she didn't agree.

"Here we are," Simon stops abruptly, causing Ali to tumble into his back. He turns around to raise his eyebrows and she smiles nervously.

"Sorry."

The man takes out a silver key and unlocks the door, pushing it open, "Take it," he extends his arm. Ali peeks behind his shoulder at the room before grabbing the key off him, "You need anything else before I go?"

Before she can open her mouth, two women catch her eye from the end of the corridor. Ali feels a wave of relief flood over her at the sight of anything other than male. But it vanishes when she realises what they are wearing.

High heels? Slutty dresses? In an apocalypse?

Suddenly, she grabs Simon's arm, making him lean in as if to hear her better, "Who are they?"

He follows her gaze, "Those women? Negan's wives," his smirk widens, "I take it you haven't met them yet."

Ali gulps and takes her hand back, slumping against the doorframe to keep her balance, "Wives?"

"Yeah," he says simply, as if that kind of shit is normal. But then again, what is normal in a world like this?

She does not belong here. She does not belong here.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Simon crouches down. That's when she realizes that in her regularly occurring panic attacks, she has slid down the wall and ended up on the floor.

Her hand touches her forehead and she feels sweat coming on. Her heart has developed a pace of its own. The ringing has started. And if she is making any sounds, they are incoherent and animalistic.

"Are you going to rape me?"

Tears cloud her vision and she roughly makes out Simon scanning all over her face, "No, sweetheart, no. Deep breaths, come on."

She gasps when her sense of touch returns and she feels a warm hand on her cheek, collecting her hot tears. She wants to push him away but he is not like Negan. He is nicer. Maybe it's because he doesn't swear much.

"Deep breaths," he repeats, reaching around his back to pick up his walkie-talkie.

Ali gasps for air, trying to get her breathing under control, "I want to go."

"Okay, sweetheart, just calm down," his confused and concerned face turns away to speak into the radio. She hears the name 'Negan'. And that's about all she can understand.

"I want to leave!" she rephrases, more desperate by the second.

Simon runs a hand down half of his face, clearly uncomfortable and untrained.

"I want to leave," she gasps, wiping at her face.

"Calm down, darling," he sighs, "Nobody wants to hurt you here."

Ali nods, as if trying to convince herself.

"How about you go into your room and get some rest?"

Ali nods again, closing her eyes to focus on her breathing, "Did you call Negan?"

"Yes," Simon answers, breathing slowly and motioning for her to do the same, "He's on his way-"

"No!" Ali sobs, trying to stand up, "No, don't make him come here."

She does not want to see him. The man is clearly insane. And there is something about him that does not make her feel like he will do much to help the situation. He has no idea what she went through. And he can't keep his hands to himself.

"Okay," Simon speaks, but it sounds more like a question, "Just go inside. Get some rest."

Once she is fully on her feet, he walks behind her, holding his arms out as if she could collapse and break into pieces at any second.

"I'm okay," she says, sniffing. The room is a blur because honestly she could not care less about anything at this point. She wants to be alone. Before Simon can walk in after her, she slams the door in his face and locks it.

"Wait, darling," he grumbles from the other side.

Ali stills and puts her forehead against the door, "I'm okay."

"Did you just lock the door?"

She watches as the door handle rattles, "I'm okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Ali's night went surprisingly well. It was quiet. The radiator near the window worked, causing the room to be toasty warm. The bed sheets were fresh. The place smelled nice. It was all good. Well, except for the tear-stained pillow she had to sleep on. But that is mostly Ali's fault.

The sun rose in the distance, casting comfortable light over the room. Ali cannot help but think that this is one of the good bedrooms in the Sanctuary. Her walk from Negan's room was short last night, so he must be living somewhere very close.

She ignored Simon's calls yesterday, and as desperate as they sounded, she was glad he trusted her enough to be left alone. She would not have opened that door. Not in a million years.

After taking the world's longest shower and only stopping when the water started to go cold, Ali gets dressed and dries her hair, finally looking somewhat presentable. She ignores the way her eyes look hollow in the mirror. Like a doll that has been banged against the side of a table by a child having a tantrum.

She runs a hand over one of her eyes, hating how her eyelashes have faded out in the scorching sun on the road. Whatever. Mascara is overrated anyway.

She forces her hand to turn the lock on the door, and when it is pulled open, Simon almost falls through.

Their eyes meet briefly. He sighs in relief, clenching onto his walkie-talkie like it is his life source.

"Jesus, why didn't you open the door? I thought you-"

"What? You thought I'd kill myself?"

Simon laughs weakly at her dry humour, and even she is unsure where it came from.

His eyes scan down her body as if to make sure she is how Negan saw her last. Ali quirks an eyebrow as she steps aside to allow him the freedom to move around, although she is quite certain he will make himself at home without permission anyway.

He called Negan last night. Didn't he come?

"Negan wants you for breakfast," he says before clearing his throat, "He wants you to have breakfast with him."

"Yeah, I got that," Ali bites back.

Simon purses his lips together, wiping at the side of his head, "Darling, are you okay? You know the shit that went down last night wasn't exactly normal."

She stays quiet, moving her arms around herself.

Simon sighs, "I'm ready when you are," he gestures to the hallway.

Ali closes the door on her way out and lets Simon take the lead. He glances over his shoulder as they walk, making sure that she has not fallen apart again.

Sympathy is not uncommon in her life, but it pisses her off nevertheless. She is not weak. And she will not let the vile years of most of her life define her.

Soon, she starts to recognise the familiar hallway and stops even before Simon does. He tucks his walkie-talkie back into his belt buckle, reaching forward to knock on the most important door in the place.

"Come in!" Negan's voice bellows from the other side. Simon glances at Ali before holding it open without stepping in.

"She's here."

"Ah!" she hears the smirk in his voice before she sees it, "Bring her in."

Simon glances at her before hanging his head. She takes this as a sign to walk in. Once she does, the door closes behind her and Simon is gone. It's just her and Negan.

He gets up from his couch and wipes at the corner of his lips with his thumb. The scratches on his cheek are still visible, but healing nicely. His eyes dance over her body as his smirk falters.

"We need to talk."

Ali nods, digging her fingernails into her elbows. Negan smiles wider, nodding towards the couch.

"Sit down, doll."

She saunters over to the couch and perches herself on the edge, watching as Negan sits directly opposite on his coffee table. His hands hang near his knees, a yellowish bandage wrapped around one of his wrists. She takes notice of how there is some moisture around the collar of his white shirt. She is not the only one who has had a shower.

Negan smiles warmly, using his eyes. She finds this slightly odd, considering his position in the hierarchy and the way he was treating her yesterday.

"Ali, darlin'," he sighs uneasily, "You're probably fucking aware that you got me a lil' worried last night."

She shakes her head, finding the confidence to lean back.

"No?" he scratches at his brow, "Simon called me. Told me you were freaking out."

"You came?"

"Yeah, I fucking came," he puts his chin forward, "You had the door locked. I figured that barging in would not be the best fucking idea. Tell me I was right."

His eyes flicker over to her wrists. She turns them over, revealing perfectly smooth skin. He thought she would cut herself?

"You were right," she confirms hesitantly. Negan cracks a smile again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ali listens to him breathing for a while, finding the silence slightly comforting. He is searching for the words. She knows what this is about.

"What's wrong, doll?" he looks back up at her, hand lingering around his chin, "Talk to me."

"I thought this was breakfast," she changes the subject. Negan smirks.

"Pardon the fuck out of me," he reaches behind him to gesture to a big tray with two plates of pancakes and a steaming cup of liquid. Ali's mouth salivates immediately, "Where are my fucking manners? Help yourself."

She reaches forward and with the older man's help manages to balance the tray on her lap. The pancakes are amazing. The blueberries placed conveniently into a smile burst in her mouth, filling it with flavour she has not tasted for months.

When she opens her eyes, she does not remember even closing them. Half of the pancake is gone. In her past life, eating like this would have made her uncomfortable, but right now she does not give a shit. Thankfully, Negan does not make a snide comment. He rubs his smile, watching her.

"Pace yourself, darlin'," his husky voice breathes, "I don't want you vomiting all over the fucking floor."

Ali picks up the ceramic mug and upon tasting the liquid realizes it is some kind of herbal tea. She burns her tongue as it flows down her throat. She glances at the second plate on the tray and figures that it is probably for Negan as the food is exactly the same. He nods at her, giving permission to eat, but she decides against it, moving the tray back onto the table.

He watches her with curiosity, still awaiting her answer. Ali puts the mug near the tray before leaning back in her seat, "I'm sorry about yesterday."

Negan sighs, "Please don't avoid my fucking questions."

Ali's heart drops. She knows that she must give him an explanation. This is his place after all.

Her mind flashes back to the half-naked women she saw before Simon told her they were Negan's wives. Their eyes lock. Is he a psychopath? Is he as evil as she painted him to be in her head?

Negan's eyebrows raise ever so slightly, urging her to talk.

Ali takes a deep breath, mouth going dry. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands. What can she even say?

"I was, um…" she glances up at Negan again, "I saw your wives."

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, but then his eyes swim with interest, obviously unable to piece together the idea of somebody breaking down with the image of his wives. Jealousy? Of course not. Something does not add up.

"And?" his smirk widens, "They introduce themselves?"

Ali shakes her head, "It was from afar."

"And that made you turn into a blubbering mess because…?" he leaves his sentence as a question, hoping Ali would latch on and elaborate.

But her bottom lip starts to quiver and her head hangs down. Not here. Not now.

"Ali, Ali…" she feels his hands poking into her palms, detaching the fingernails from her bruised skin, "Stop that."

She places her hands flat on her knees, blinking back the tears. Jesus, she _is_ a mess. She can't even have a conversation.

"I don't wanna… fuck," he breathes, "I don't wanna be overstepping a line. I don't want you to be getting upset, but I can't help you, sweetheart."

She looks up at him.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what is wrong. I'm not a fucking therapist. I want you to fit into our little world, make yourself useful here. Have a decent job. Help move forward," he scratches the back of his head, "And for you to help me, I need to help you. That is how this shit works."

Ali nods, squeezing her eyes shut briefly.

"Did you lose somebody recently?" he asks. Ali shakes her head, recognising the boredom that starts to reach his face. He is not a therapist. And he shouldn't be. That is not what he is here for.

If she is this much trouble, he could just throw her out.

"My dad used to abuse me," she spits out, unsure of her choice of words. She could have said 'raped'. It would have been blunter. And she would not need to say anything else. Usually, one catches on after that and terminates the conversation.

Negan lowers his hands, peeking up at her face like a lost puppy, "That shit breaks my heart."

"He raped me," she tries again, feeling fresh tears burning the backs of her eyes. Negan stays silent, the only sound in the room becoming the sound of her erratic breathing and his heavy heart beat, "It started when I was small," she nods, finding the confidence to speak, "It was… it was before this."

Negan freezes for a moment before visibly moving backwards. Ali sees the puzzle pieces in his head fitting together.

"I killed him," she wipes her wet face, "A few months ago I killed him. And I thought that would be the end, but it wasn't," her words begin to get lost in the sobs, "I thought I would feel better, but I don't. It's worse now."

Negan's hand hovers above her shoulder. He takes it back.

"He was bit, so I killed him," she adds detail, not knowing how relevant it might be, "He raped me… I don't want to stay here. He raped me."

Her timeline begins to jump back and forward in front of her eyes, but Negan seems to grasp the basis of her story.

He disappears momentarily, coming back with a box of freshly opened tissues. He found tissues in the apocalypse. It is so stupid that it makes her laugh.

"Shh, calm down," he prods the material at her face, watching it turn into putty, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Ali cries into her hands, forgetting about her surroundings and that maybe Negan might be really uncomfortable. But at the same time, she does not care. She just wants to cry and curl up in a ball and not be touched or comforted by anyone.

In a foetal position on the couch, Negan's hands never come close.

It must be lunchtime when Ali finds the strength to move again. She is in limbo. Everything is white. It may as well be death.

"Darlin'," his husky breath fills the void in the room, "I want you to know that you won't have to go through anything like that ever again."

Ali opens her eyes and sees a shadow pouring itself a glass of whiskey. It could be scotch. Or water.

"Nobody at the Sanctuary wants to hurt you," he states, "I don't want to hurt you. You're safe here. I can promise you that."

She feels the rough material of a blanket rubbing at her shoulders as she moves. Maybe she did not sleep well at night after all.

There are pins and needles in her left arm. She turns to face the back of the couch.

"There's some food on the table for you, if you're hungry," Negan's voice is hesitant, "I got shit to take care of. I'll be back soon, alright?"

The door slams and the room is empty. But Ali cannot feel the difference.


	4. Chapter 4

Ali spent the next few days alone in her room. Negan had no issues with her cutting herself off from the world, and for that she was grateful… no matter how weird that sounds.

He even took it upon himself to have meals brought up to her living area. No matter how uncomfortable that made Ali, she thought about the alternative. She thought about going down to the dining area and eating with hundreds of sexually frustrated men. Soldiers. And that was enough to make her realize she was doing right by herself.

Deep down, however, she felt weak. She survived out there among the dead for months… and her father before he died. But meeting new people and acting like she was, it was inevitable that she thought of herself as weak.

Her intuition told her that Simon was okay, and she could talk to him without freaking out, but that was because he knew how to keep his distance. The way Negan shows affection… it's different. He has to talk. He has to touch. But with the way he has turned into a ghost recently made Ali think he was finally beginning to understand her.

Until today.

Ali wipes her sweaty palms on her new jeans. Simon dropped by her room to inform her that Negan wants to have a 'little chat'. She has no way of knowing what that 'little chat' is going to be about, but simply seeing him puts her on edge. Maybe it's nothing. It's probably nothing.

She ties her long hair into a bun before heading out of the door. Originally, somebody was supposed to pick her up and take her to Negan, but Ali was not going to be babied. Especially in a world like this.

The corridor is empty and cold, just like it is all the damn time. She leans against the wall, briefly navigating her way to his office in her head. She knows the way. It's not too far.

Her body tenses up as a man with an assault rifle passes her. She casts her eyes down when he notices her, and even when she is looking at her shoes, she feels his eyes on her.

Soon, the footsteps fade out and she is alone again. He must have thought she looked slightly weird standing there.

Ali sighs and starts to walk. _You killed these soldiers upon your arrival. You can walk through a fucking corridor._ She swallows her nerves and forces her legs to move.

A few turns to the right. A couple to the left. A quick swerve and an apology for bumping into a woman. She is there.

Desperate for the warmth of his room and tired of the everlasting gaze of other people, she pounds on the door, jumping back slightly when it opens almost immediately.

It's not Negan. She steps back quickly, wondering if she got the right room. That's when she realises that the guy staring down at her is the same guy she saw in the corridor not long ago.

"Umm," she opens her mouth to apologise, but a velvety voice interrupts.

"Ali!" Negan smiles behind the man, holding out his arms, "Davey here was just leaving. Good to see you, sweetheart."

She bites her lip.

"Where the fuck is Simon? Wasn't he supposed to escort you?"

Ali blushes in embarrassment, glancing from Negan to 'Davey' or whatever his name is.

"I am capable of walking here by myself," she answers, the confidence in her voice surprising her.

Negan nods in approval before pointing towards the door, "Get the hell out of here, David. I have a guest."

David casts a quick glance at Ali before disappearing into thin air. He is a strange looking man. He is smaller than Negan and slightly chubby, with greasy hair sticking to his forehead.

Ali shudders before stepping into Negan's office. She closes the door behind her.

"You say Simon didn't show up?" he reaches for his walkie-talkie. The disappointment in his voice makes her anxious for the man responsible for making her feel almost like she has been here for years.

"Wait!" she calls, stilling Negan's actions. He turns to her with a wide smirk, "I didn't wait for him. I wanted to get here by myself."

"So you did," he nods before gesturing around the room, "Take a seat, darlin'. Anywhere will do."

He turns his back, walking over to the bar right next to his bathroom door. He starts pouring drinks, playing the part of a perfect host.

Ali folds her arms and goes to sit on the big armchair. He glances at her, a smile in his voice, "Do you know why you're here?"

"No," she answers, crossing her legs after discarding her combat boots.

Negan scratches his top lip with his thumb. She notices that he is wearing his white shirt again. A bandage is wrapped around his wrist, this time it looks cleaner.

"I wanted to talk to you about your job here," he purrs, walking over to Ali with two glasses in hand. He hands her the one that looks the clearest. She sniffs it. Nothing. Water.

He slouches opposite her with a relaxing groan before taking a sip of his drink. His eyes stay on her as he swallows, looking as if there is a dialogue rehearsal going on in his head. Finally, he speaks.

"You know that The Sanctuary isn't a fucking hotel," Negan smirks, "I don't simply welcome every fucking beggar on the road and let them stay here for free. Nope. That is not how this shit works."

Ali looks down into her glass, watching the water wobble. He is bringing this up because she does not have a job, that much is clear. She is not stupid. But that is not a problem for her. She knew from the beginning that something was expected of her if she was to live here. And even if Negan would not have said anything, she still wouldn't be able to sit around for the rest of her life, waiting for the next meal to be brought up to her room.

She nods, taking a gulp of the water, "Cut to the chase."

Negan raises his brows, creating a satisfactory croak in the back of his throat, "Look at this badass."

His eyes dance over her again. She looks away.

"Okay, darlin'. Sure thing," he leans in, "I know what you are capable of," he says, referring to her spectacular entrance into the Sanctuary, "So I'm thinking…"

She watches as he scratches the stubble around his jawline, creating the sound of sandpaper.

"How would you like to work outside of the Sanctuary?"

"Meaning?"

Negan smiles, showing his teeth, "Meaning," he mimics, "Going on runs. Trading with other communities."

Ali sits up. She didn't know there were other communities. She missed them all and stumbled into this one?

"Of course, you won't be alone," he adds, "Simon usually makes trips to the Hilltop. You still like Simon, right?"

Ali stares at him.

"Just follow his lead. I'll tell him to show you the ropes, and then," there is a dramatic pause, "You become a fucking Savior."

He takes her silence as a rejection.

"Unless," there is a mischievous tone to his voice, "You'd rather be here with me, feeding me grapes and giving me massages."

She bites the inside of her cheek, waiting for him to say something about the possibility of riding his dick, but it never comes.

"I'll do the job," she says. Negan continues staring, "The… the job with Simon."

He nods, chuckling as he lies back, "Whatever you want, doll."

"Am I working for my welcome here?"

"You are working for points," he clarifies. She tilts her head like a clueless puppy, "The more points you have, the more shit you can afford. Food, water, medicine… toys."

Ali raises a brow.

"But darlin', the points won't be a problem for you," he says, "I am giving you one of the best jobs because I like you," his shoulders shake lightly, suppressing a chuckle.

"Oh… thank you," she answers awkwardly.

"You are fucking welcome, sugar."

Pity job?

When it feels like the important conversation is over, she leans back in the armchair and finishes her drink. Negan does the same with his.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

Ali thinks for a moment. It sounds pretty straight forward. If Simon is going to be 'showing her the ropes', there are no immediate questions. Not for Negan.

She shakes her head, "No, sir."

He grunts, jerking his hips upwards. Ali gives him a weird look.

"I like that," he whispers.

He watches as she squirms under his stare, either enjoying it too much, or trying to figure her out.

"Can I go?" she asks quickly. Negan sighs deeply before nodding.

"Yes, darlin'," she stands up, "Be by the gates tomorrow morning. And don't be late."

She turns to walk towards the door, hearing him stand up and walk behind her. She reaches for the handle, gasping when she finds his warm hand already clutching it. His breath is in her hair.

"Let me get that for you," he whispers.

Ali steps sideways to let him open it. The cool air from the corridor hits her in the face. It is both a relief and an intensification at the same time.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun has just started to rise, so the air was still cold from the night. Ali wraps her arms around herself, walking towards two large trucks. Men appear to be flinging stuff off it, and loading it with something else. There is a guffaw of laughter from one of the packs of wolves. They continue loading supplies onto the trucks, talking amongst each other. She is about to step back, but Simon appears from behind one of the trucks, waving happily.

She sighs, walking forward.

Alright, this is her job. She cannot screw this up on the first day.

"Ali!" he flings his arms outwards, "You made it! Bright and early!"

She gives a curt nod before glancing back at the men, "What are we doing?"

Simon scratches the tip of his nose, pulling up his pants so hard that he must jump. Briefly, he touches her shoulder. Then he points to his big black truck.

"You'll be with me," he grins, "Everyone else in the other truck. We're visiting the Hilltop today, so I just need you to stick with me and towards the end, load up the supplies. Can you do that?"

"Hilltop," she repeats, "We're taking supplies from that community?"

Simon looks down at her, wrinkling up his forehead, "That's right."

Ali cracks a small smile, "And they're okay with that?"

"Sweetheart!" his outburst makes her jump slightly, "We're not leaving them high and dry!" he laughs, pointing again to one of the trucks, "That baby is filled up with apples!"

She raises an eyebrow, "Because apples are so hard to come by?"

Instead of being difficult, he laughs again, "Every little helps. Does it not?"

The step onto the truck is so high, Ali nearly falls backwards into the dirt. Luckily Simon does not see her stumble as he is already in the driver's seat. However, she earns a snigger from one of the men behind her. Shaking her head in frustration, she manages to throw herself inside like a seal out of water. Simon smirks in amusement, but keeps his mouth shut.

SHSHSHSHSHSH

The day passed quickly, and it was slightly underwhelming. When they arrived at the Hilltop, Simon has made it clear that Ali stuck to him. He would not let her out of his sight, especially when those were the direct orders from Negan. She is a hundred percent sure that Negan was behind this whole treat-Ali-like-a-baby plan. It began to irritate her so at one point she wandered off towards the Hilltop's gardening area and was almost pounced on by all the Sanctuary soldiers.

Other than that, the pick-up went smoothly. She saw an enormous community (not as enormous as the Sanctuary but still). All these people were alive. They all made it somehow and continue living in one of the safest areas she has ever seen. Some grow vegetables, some patrol the walls… it all works.

The only thing Ali found odd was how everybody at the Hilltop seemed to tense up at Simon's arrival. The leader, Gregory, was fidgeting wherever he went, offering Simon every worthy item he could find. Simon being Simon took everything, but occasionally passed the items behind him to Ali.

She looks down at her lap now, where a hair brush, scented soap and a can of Pepsi shake with the vibration of the truck.

She glances over at Simon, who is too preoccupied humming as he looks ahead at the road and drives.

"I can't believe they had Pepsi."

"Right?" Simon widens his smile, glancing over, "That is a luxury most people can't afford, sweetheart. But with the Saviors, you could be having a can a week."

"You don't need to sell it to me, I'm not going anywhere," she rolls her eyes.

Simon raises a brow at her attitude, "What, you prefer Cola? Because we can get that too."

Ali looks over with a twinkle in her eye, "Why did I come?"

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't allowed to do anything!" she says, leaning back in the seat, "I am supposed to be training. And you're treating me like I am a child who will swallow a tide pod if I see one."

His knuckles turn white against the wheel as he sighs, "Negan's orders."

"I don't give a shit!"

Simon watches her, surprised. She puts a hand to her face, forcing her raging heartbeat to slow down. Her past does not define her as a person, when will everyone get it through their thick skulls?

"You don't give a shit?" he challenges, "We're all Negan, sunshine. And the sooner you start to accept that, the better."

She shakes her head, "You're not making any sense."

Instead of scowling, he releases a chuckle.

"What could possibly be so funny?"

"You," his answer is straight. Ali looks at the road ahead, trees whizzing past on either side of the truck. The other Saviors are behind them, and whenever there is a sharp turn, she sees them in the mirror. She looks back at Simon who has replaced his amused look with one of thought.

"What did you think would have happened to me if I wasn't watched?"

Simon glances at her, briefly scratching his thigh, "Well… let's see."

Ali folds her arms, waiting.

"Neither Negan nor I want you to feel overwhelmed by all this. You could have had another panic attack."

"Panic attack? I've seen people before, you know."

He clicks his tongue, "Sweetheart, you clearly need to be watched. You are not stable-"

"I'm not stable?" she points to her chest, but isn't shocked by his words, "Your so-called leader has like twenty wives!"

"Now you're exaggerating-"

"I don't need to be babied!"

She has no idea why there is no fear talking to Simon. He could report her to Negan, he is his right-hand man after all. It's just that he is nowhere near as intimidating as Negan. Not to her, anyway. Every time she snaps, he runs his fingers down his moustache like a bored father. It is as if he is allowing himself to be treated like shit. It is as if he is her therapist.

"I want to train to be a Savior like any other person!"

"Any other person doesn't pass out every time they see a man walking by," he responds.

Ali growls in frustration and looks down at the lock on the truck. Without thinking, she pulls it up, immediately unlocking her side and allowing the door to whip open.

"Ali!" Simon shouts over the wind. The interior is filled with fresh air before being clouded by the smell of the engine.

The truck skids slightly as Simon tries to reach over to close the door. Without a seatbelt, Ali would have fallen directly onto the concrete road. She notices all the other vehicles screech to a stop behind them before Simon does the same thing. They both jolt forward and then get pushed back into their seats. She feels the vibration of the vehicle sizzle away into nothing. That is when Simon slams his hands into the wheel.

"Godammit!"

Ali takes a deep breath, glancing back at the door. It is still open. It is just a matter of time before the others run up to check what the hell it was that happened.

She turns to Simon, feeling less like she has made a statement, and more like a stupid girl doing stupid things to get her way.

He takes deep breath before pulling out his walkie-talkie and growling into it, "Engine's dead. Send someone to pick up the truck. We'll ride with you."

Ali observes as he leans back in the seat and takes a few reassuring breaths. Awkward silence hangs in the air even though different sounds of nature invade their space with the help of the open door. Simon sighs deeply before opening his door and getting out. That is when it starts to dawn on her. He is going to tell Negan.

A few seconds later he appears at her side, wordlessly unbuckling her seat belt. She ignores how his hands skim across her lap, feeling determined to prove that she is not a freak. Once it's off, he stands there, hands on his hips.

"Are you coming or not?"

She meets his eyes. They are full of disappointment and irritation.

"I'm sorry, I just want you to trust me with a weapon."

There is it again. The stroke of his moustache. He glances at his feet, shaking his head.

"I want to work alongside the others," she presses on, squeezing her hands together. The fact that he is not replying signifies that he is at least thinking about it. It gets her hopes up.

"You talk to Negan about that," he steps aside. Ali looks down at the ground before jumping out of the truck.

Why does it have to be Negan?


End file.
